


If You Helped Me, I'd Get It Right

by jazzonia



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Schmoop, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzonia/pseuds/jazzonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was supposed to be a PWP about Steve and Danny coming home, arrest-high, with our favorite SEAL bottoming from the top. Then Steve started feeling things, and this happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Helped Me, I'd Get It Right

**Author's Note:**

> _"McGarrett, do you have kids?"_   
>  _"No."_   
>  _"Then you'll never understand."_   
>  **-Episode 1x21, "Ho'opa'i"**

They limp home after the arrest, the Camaro coated with dust and salt, knees and knuckles inflamed, shirts stiff with dried sweat, hands still smelling of gunpowder and metal. Steve sheds the keys, the vest, the boots, the gun, a very _Steve_ kind of gingerbread trail leading back to the bedroom.

And it's there the whole time, in his head, looping over and over, what Reggie said with such resignation. _You'll never understand._

He does, though. He knows what it is to be prepared to give your life for someone, to want to give it, because he knows Danny. Knows him like nobody else, not even his dad or Mary or himself—knows that nothing is more important to Danny than his daughter, not life or law or Steve or any of it. 

"We've gotta get married," he says, sitting heavily on the bed with his weight on his good arm. Danny freezes, in the middle of taking his vest off.

"I—what?"

Steve wants to smile, really, because he can count the number of times he's seen Danny speechless on one hand, but this is far too important. "Married, Danny. We've gotta do it. City hall. Let's just do it now before—"

"Before what? Before you lose your nerve? Before I can recover my goddamned speech long enough to respond? Before the governor gets wind of this cockamamie scheme and has us both committed?"

"Danny. I love you, okay, and I just want to—You're just, you're all I've got, you and Grace and the team, and if I ever came home to see—I mean, if it were Grace in that…" Now he's getting worked up, now Danny's never gonna let him talk—

"Steve." Those are the sad eyes, already, _fuck._

"I just want to make this promise to you. I want us to be a family, you know. I want to drive to work together. I want you to move in properly, already. And I want to be someone for Grace—I mean, I don't have to be her stepdad, I'd never ask you to do that, but I do want to be there for her. All the time, whenever she needs it, even when it scares me."

"Never ask—never ask me to do it? To let you be a father to Grace? You better get this, McGarrett, you better hear me loud and clear: if we're doing this, we're doing it right. All in, balls-out, whatever. You and me, rings, this house, that second bedroom painted sugarplum pink, all of it."

Steve shakes his head a little. "Well, I—yes, okay. Okay."

"But if you're gonna be a part of my daughter's life, right, _properly,_ if she's gonna call you Uncle or Step-Steve—god, Stan will fucking _love_ that, lemme tell you—you've gotta cut it out."

"What?

"What do you mean _what?_ " Danny takes a step backward, his balling his hands into fists. "Your, your, crazy shit."

"What shit? I didn't, I didn't give you any shit today. I was shitless. Shit-free." Steve tries for a grin but he's cowering, really, as Danny approaches, monologuing and gesticulating full-force.

"Your shit, Steven! The charging, the shooting, the intimidating federal officers, the shoving me out of the driver's seat with your damn arm, your broken arm, thank you very much, and the guns and that nice FBI lady, what did she ever do to you, Steven, except tell you not to go near a criminal who could kill you or break your other arm, a criminal who shot up some guy's house, his beach house, his very expensive house, god, I can't imagine it, how do all these real estate people deal with the gunshots—I mean, you must owe the state of Hawaii a couple million in lost revenue, the gunshots you've put into their very nice beach houses—"

"Danny." They're very close, now, and Steve isn't sure where this is going, any more.

"Oh, no, because your crazy shit _spreads,_ see. Gracie's already surfing like a fucking, I dunno, a fish—"

"Fish don't—"

"—you get my point, Steven, you get my _metaphor._ You're an intelligent man, you understand _figurative language._ Did I even tell you about Kono yet? She climbed a tree like a damn monkey, or a spider, or a spider monkey ninja alien, just hacked down this camera—government property, very nice state camera, yep, just add it to your bill—it was a play out of your book, classic McGarret, exactly as you'd've done, and I _know_ Gracie will be next, scaling trees and buying surfboards behind my back and eating all your weird foods, and oh my god, if my little girl ever gets a tattoo I will personally take your—mmph."

Steve cuts him off with a kiss, tenderly, carefully, nipping Danny's lips even as he feels them start to move again. Licks into his mouth, slowly, scooting back on the bed to let Danny straddle him. There's so much he wants—to run his hands through Danny's hair, loose and starting to curl by this time of night, or to trace the outline of those shoulders, or to strip him slowly bare and lay him out and suck him—but his _arm,_ and he's so tired, and Danny's just looking at him with these angry forehead furrows and his giant sad eyes. And Steve wants time with this ridiculous little cop and his perfect daughter, shared by so many people already but so giving, so _generous_ with her love.

"Detective Williams," he says, sliding his knuckles across Danny's cheek, "Detective Williams, would you please do me the favor of giving me the rest of your life?"

Danny just looks at him, his mouth quirked, running his fingers along the nape of Steve's neck.

"Are you gonna go and die on me, Steven?"

"I'll try not to."

"Are you gonna break Grace's heart?"

"Swear on yours I won't."

Danny gives bark of a laugh. "Why mine?"

"Because I don't need to worry about my heart as long as yours is okay."

And Danny chokes, a little, eyes wet, nails digging into Steve's skin, and bows his head to brush their foreheads together.

"Then I think I do, Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Commander," Steve whispers.

"Yeah, okay." 

And when they fuck later, skin pink, hair still damp from the shower that lasted a round and a half, well, if some tears get mixed in with their sweat and their come, Steve's not about to say a thing.


End file.
